


Crushed Flowers and Crumpled Armor

by lyekissedfist



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:53:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26720947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyekissedfist/pseuds/lyekissedfist
Summary: Ingrid is in big trouble. Not only is she late to catch Dorothea's performance, her armor bears a mark on it proving that she had a near miss while out on patrol. This is not something that Dorothea will stand for and she makes sure that Ingrid knows it.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	Crushed Flowers and Crumpled Armor

Ingrid put her all into every fight, no matter the enemy, but on the nights when the opera performed, she fought like a woman possessed. She cut down everyone who crossed her path, her own troops unable to keep up with her. Her lance flashed in the sunlight as she whirled around the battlefield in a desperate dance. Blood turned the dirt to mud beneath her boots and she ground her heels in, refusing to show mercy. Ingrid had more important things to do than slaughter a bunch of murderous bandits and she was starting to get very annoyed that they were keeping her from those things. They needed to have the decency to die or surrender. She needed to get back to the Capital as quickly as possible.

“Ingrid! On your left!” 

The stark voice rang out from behind Ingrid and she responded in an instant. With a twist she managed to miss being swiped by a heavy broadsword, though her shoulder armor took a bit of damage and she would definitely have a bruise later.

That was what she got for being distracted. Her goal was a clear echo in her head, spurring her on, but she had to be careful with her thoughts. Sometimes they would wander too far and she would find herself not paying attention to anything in front of her. Typically it happened when they were riding towards a location or when she was training other knights, but sometimes it would happen at the most inconvenient moments. 

She put down the bandit that had attempted to surprise her and noticed with some satisfaction that, other than a few stragglers who were attempting to retreat, they had managed to clear out the encampment. Ingrid swiped a few stray strands of hair away from her sweaty forehead, a pleasant ache thrumming through her body. “You three, there.” With a sharp tone she pointed to three of her companions and then towards the direction the bandits had headed. “Go after them.” 

They obeyed without question. 

There was work that was still to be done. Work that Ingrid should probably hang around for. She wasn’t going to do that though and no one was even surprised when she turned away from the chaotic remains of the battle and headed towards her horse. Everyone knew that it was a bad idea to get in between Ingrid and the opera. Rumors were still whispered about the last time that someone had tried. They were...quite unpleasant, particularly for the men.  
***

Night had fallen by the time Ingrid made it back to the Capital. The streets surrounding the opera house were crowded with people in their best outfits, intoxicated by the scent of flowers and food from the nearby restaurants. Ingrid stood out in her battered armor, still smelling of sweat and blood. She’d tried to wash up before heading out, but she was already very late. She couldn’t do much more than make sure the mud was out from underneath her nails and that her hair was in some semblance of arrangement. Ingrid didn’t even have time to stop by her favorite shop and pick up that special little box of chocolates and she did that every night she was attending the opera. It was important that she had something in her hands, something that she could offer and hide behind. Something that would do the talking for her so she didn’t have to worry about all those awkward words that she seemed to always mess up when...when she was at the opera. 

There were heavy urns set along the street at various points, filled with luxurious flowers of many colors for all the people to admire. Ingrid sidled up to one of these, standing with her back to it. A glance over her shoulder assured her that there was no one watching and with a swift bent of the knees and bounce back up, she snatched a handful of flowers and ripped them from the dirt. They didn’t even struggle. Just pop, right out. Roots dangling with small balls of mud attached that Ingrid plucked at as she scurried into the opera house. 

There were guards outside to keep the peace and very formal men and women patrolling inside to keep out the riff-raff and extend politeness to those with a ticket. Ingrid did not have a ticket, but no one dared to stop her. No one was foolish enough to even attempt to contain the tempest that was a very late Ingrid Brandl Galatea.

Saying that she was right on time would be an overstatement, but considering the trouble she had gone through getting there it was still pretty good. It could have been worse. It was right in the middle of the big number. The climax that brought tears to the eyes of everyone that heard it. Not Ingrid of course. She was a knight. Knights did not cry at operas no matter how breathtakingly beautiful the performance was. 

The lights were dimmed, darkness lurking at the edge of the stage. The soft yellow glow of a spotlight was focused on the star of the show. Dorothea was radiant. Well, she was always radiant and breathtaking and more, but when she performed there was this energy that shot through her and lit her up from the inside. 

Her long, brown hair framed her face in delicate waves and her eyes were surrounded with dark makeup that made the green bright even for Ingrid standing at the back of the house. She wore a costume of black and gold, somewhere between a robe and a lovingly fitted dress. The bodice was fitted and swooped very low on her chest, showing off her long neck, lovely collarbones and...other assets that Ingrid tried not to focus on too hard (but that was really hard to do with every deep breath that Dorothea took for her song). The material fell down, hanging loose around the legs with a slit nearly up to her hip that showed off an impossibly shapely and firm leg.

The music was good too. Of course it was amazing. Dorothea’s voice was above all the rest and no one would ever be able to change Ingrid’s mind on that. No one ever tried because she was very good with a lance. It was just that whenever Ingrid watched Dorothea sing, she got lost in everything about her. The way that she moved. She gestured so delicately and put so much emotion into everything that she did. She was a dream. A wonderful, beautiful dream come to life that Ingrid was so lucky to know.

***

There were still several songs to be sung, but none of them included Dorothea so Ingrid really did not care. She made her way out from the performance hall and followed the familiar path to the dressing rooms. It was second nature at this point. She could walk with her eyes closed and still find Dorothea’s dressing room. Ingrid rapped on the door with one hand, hiding the other behind her back with the flowers clutched tightly in her fist. 

Her heart was pounding against her ribs and she wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like she didn’t do this nearly every week. Yet there was always that trill of excitement and anxiety that shot through her when she was waiting for Dorothea to answer.

“Come in Ingrid!” Dorothea’s sweet voice called through the door, beckoning more seductive than a siren without even trying. 

Ingrid entered, shutting the door behind her. Dorothea was sitting at her mirror but she turned around to face Ingrid with a slight smile on her lips. Her hair was pulled away from her so that she could wipe her make-up off, leaving her sharp features exposed. She had a cloth in her hand, smeared with the dark makeup from around her eyes, and her cheeks were pink from scrubbing. Her arm rested over the back of her chair, the silk robe she wore falling off of one of her shoulders to reveal the creamy skin. 

Dorothea was waiting to know her opinion on the performance and Ingrid knew it, but she was struggling to get her tongue to obey her mind. All she could do was stare helplessly, crushing the makeshift bouquet between her fingers. 

A quiet chuckle left Dorothea, surprisingly husky, and she shook her head. “Ingrid, you know your silence is absolutely killing me.” Her lower lip stuck out but her eyes danced. “You have to tell me! Did you enjoy the show?” 

Ingrid nodded so hard it was a surprise she didn’t dislocate something. “Of course! I always enjoy the show when you’re in it,” she said. “You’re...amazing. Magnificent.” 

Dorothea looked please. “Oh stop. Now you’re just flattering.” 

Shaking her head, Ingrid stepped forward and held out the flowers that she’d picked. “I’d never lie to you, Thea. You know that.” 

“You’d not lie, but you would flatter. I know that,” Dorothea said. 

She rose from her seat, tossing the cloth onto the vanity and heading towards Ingrid. Her hand reached for the flowers that Ingrid offered, but she paused, her eyes glancing at the dented armor. The smile melted from Dorothea’s face, the mood shifting in an instant. Her eyes widened and the pink on her cheeks turned towards red. Ingrid grimaced, covering her damaged armor with one hand. She knew what was coming and she was dreading it. There were few things in the world that frightened her as much as an upset Dorothea.


End file.
